


Of Comfort No Man Speak

by fishydwarrows



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Space, Not Beta Read, just boys being soft and sad together, really short oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishydwarrows/pseuds/fishydwarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hunk sits alone in the observatory deck; it is dark and cold- a complete contrast to the bright, washing light of the main control deck on the Castle of Lions."</p>
<p>Hance Hurt/Comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Comfort No Man Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend Sab who found me some poetry to integrate into the title! Title from Richard the ii  
> My ask box is always open! Ask me about my fics! http://fishfingersandscarves.tumblr.com/  
> Please leave a comment!

Hunk sits alone in the observatory deck; it is dark and cold- a complete contrast to the bright, washing light of the main control deck on the Castle of Lions.

 

The windows reveal the blackness of space and pin-prick light of the stars, it is a lonely feeling that envelops him completely. Hunk stares at the ground, his armoured feet scuff the bleach white floor with blood and muck.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut.

 

They had lost.

 

Not the battle.

 

But the planet.

 

They had tried- _he_ had tried, tried _so hard_ to save them- but to no avail.

 

He breathes quickly, his voice permeating through the air like a crushing wave.

 

It was too much- _too much_ . Hunk rubs his hands over his face, trying to push away the dark thoughts. He looks at the windows, the light of the stars are dulled by the blue tint of shield. A part of him wishes to be sucked into space, to stop seeing _all the destruction._ All the loss.

 

But he is the rock, the foundation, the Leg of Voltron. He’s not supposed to succumb to anxiety, the weight of the mission. He’s the one who builds others up when they’re down. Oftentimes he feels like an anchor, keeping everyone from drifting but at the same moment, sinking further and further down.

 

Another sound cuts through the silence, the click of heels on metal. Hunk turns away from the door and stares out at the stars- he doesn’t want to deal with anything right now. The walking gets louder as the figure gets closer, then, unbidden but not unwanted, a hand comes to rest on Hunk’s back.

 

“Hey,” says a low voice and Lance shifts to sit next to Hunk. Lance keeps his hand on Hunk’s back, for which Hunk is grateful. He leans into the touch slowly, the stars reflect off the shining metal floor, reminding Hunk yet again that this is not the home he loves.

 

To Hunk, it feels as though time stops or at least holds its breath.

 

He breathes deep, taking in the silence and the stillness of the room.

 

“Do you…” Lance says, breaking the peace.

 

He lets the sentence hang tethered in the air, a deflating balloon.

 

Lance’s hand drops from Hunk’s back and immediately the warmth is missed.

 

Hunk turns, finally looking at the other boy for the first time. He cannot discern the expression on Lance’s face.

 

Is it hesitation- fear- something else?

 

Perhaps it is all and more. Lance shifts under Hunk’s gaze.

 

Hunk can guess how he looks to him.

 

Hollow, worn.

 

He never changed out of his armour, didn’t make an effort to clean the blood from his shoes. He is tired. Lance leans forward, tentative and quiet. Then he takes Hunk’s hand in his.

 

Hunk is struck by how small the other’s palms are, how tiny they are compared to his. Lance intertwines his fingers with Hunk’s and looks him in the eye.

 

There is a suppression in the air.

 

The want of something other- something _more._

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He says sotto voce. Hunk shakes his head. He may not want to talk, but he’s grateful for the company. Lance nods and an understanding passes between them.

 

It’s always like this, they’ve been in tune with one another for as long as Hunk can remember. Lance is his best friend (and something else too.) Lance leans his head on Hunk’s shoulder. They act as pillars for each other, a pulley system of support.

 

“Thank you,” he rasps. His voice is not his to control. He shudders and suddenly, Hunk is crying into Lance’s tight embrace. He sniffs and snivels into the dark fabric of Lance’s shirt, staining the baby blue fabric with his tears. Lance wraps his free hand around Hunk and cradles his head, pressing their foreheads together.

 

They sit together in silence, breath mingling: Hunk’s hiccupping gasps blow against Lance’s face.

 

Hunk closes his eyes and squeezes Lance’s hand.

 

Once.

 

Twice.

 

Three times.

 

It is a message and perhaps a plea.

  
_I._

 

_Love._

 

_You._

 

Lance’s breath stops.

 

Hunk keeps his eyes shut, they are probably red and swollen, and still, tears are dripping down.

 

He can’t stop.

 

Lance lets go of his hand.

 

_This is it._ He thinks. _This is the end._

 

But, Lance’s hand returns and rises to Hunk’s face. He cups Hunk’s cheek and wipes away the drying tears.

 

Hunk opens his eyes slowly and looks at Lance’s face.

 

The stars are patterned over his dark skin and reflect in his eyes. It’s beautiful.

 

“I love you too.” Lance says, and Hunk’s heart stops.

 

Hunk leans forward and they melt together. The kiss itself is awkward and slow, but enough for now.

  
Time exhales, and Hunk thinks that the stars look a little less lonely now.


End file.
